On March 18, 1999, Vajpayee attended Mahajan's Benefit Match (aka the inauguration of DD's sports channel) a smile playing upon his lips, sunny as a Delhi spring day. That's a lot of sunshine.The same night, on the eve of completing one year as Prime Minister, we watched two television interviews with him by Saeed Naqvi and Rajdeep Sardesai, respectively (DD1 and STAR News Channel). The first in Hindi for the northern belt, the second in English for the rest of the world.

Vajpayee's hair was designer cut and combed; he wore a whitekurta/dhoti, a blue waist jacket. The Naqvi interview took place in the traditional spot: in front of the fire place with flowers (carnations) between them and India at his feet (if you are going to write about the PM, might as well try for a little poetry). Sardesai's took place with a glass door backdrop and cosy sofa sets (if you think we're too taken with irrelevant details regarding the decor, remember this is the only occasion we get to peek the PM's rooms).

Seven months is a very long time in politics. This time, Vajpayee's shoulders were straight; he looked alert, he sounded lively. His replies brooked few pauses. He seemed relaxed; even Jayalalitha firing threats at him couldn't have disturbed the equanimity of his features. He laughed, not guffaws but a self-deprecating sound befitting a man of his stature and age. He spoke of the highs and lows, policies and politics, the sadness and the solitude of office. But it wasn't what he said which mattered: politicians have to make appropriate, thoughseldom truthful, statements. No, it was his fluency, his sure-footed approach. When he read out his rather ordinary anniversary poem to Naqvi, when he told Sardesai ``I am the real Atal Behari Vajpayee'', you sensed the man had become his office. Sonia Gandhi, be warned.

Why and how the transformation? Vajpayee told Sardesai he had learnt not to worry; that, or he had been taught a thing or two about the art of television performances. Naqvi and Sardesai were succinct and unafraid to ask a few impolitic questions. Though why they felt it necessary to shake Vajpayee's evidently reluctant hand at the end, we didn't understand but would dearly like to know.

DD Sports sailed into the airwaves like the cricket ball lofted by Kambli, Dravid or Sehwag during its inauguration. And having sailed it appeared to have landed on a cloud because the picture in some areas was decidedly grey. The soundtrack was either without volume or then disturbed by a constant snore. But there is hope: as an Oil of Olayadvertisement once suggested, as it grows older it will only get better. Because it couldn't have been worse.

Which brings us to Satyamev Jayate (DD1). This is not the place or occasion to comment on the show's historical accuracy or omissions. But did it make good television? It looked picturesque and prettier than actress Zinta; the music and dance numbers were catchy, the men walking with lit torches fetchy, sorry fetching. The dramatics were a bit long, the entire programme far too long (especially if you had tuned in at 6.30 pm when the telecast began). Consequently, Samachar had to be delayed to accomodate the concluding moments. That's not television, good or bad; that's propaganda.

You will appreciate the significance of the last remark, had you watched On the Record (DD2). Karan Thapar was wonderful; he exposed the collusion between Pramod Mahajan (BJP) and Shivraj Patil (Congress) on autonomy for Prasar Bharati. He was like a knife peeling a potato. Mahajan reiterated that DD was objective andthere was no need for autonomy; that he had a ``responsibility'' (to Parliament) without the ``authority'' (over Prasar Bharati). Anyone who watched DD1 on Thursday and Friday, would ask him to consult a dictionary before he uses those two words again.